


For You I'm Insomniatic

by dragongeek1



Series: Lyrium Ghosts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, snippet from a larger fic/universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongeek1/pseuds/dragongeek1
Summary: Hawke and Fenris don't always get a lot of sleep. This is nothing new, for either of them, and it's a well known fact (the only person in Kirkwall with a worse sleep schedule is Anders). But lately it's been even worse for both of them, and other people are starting to notice.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Series: Lyrium Ghosts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614940
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	For You I'm Insomniatic

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same universe as my in-progress Modern AU longfic/huge project/my own personal hell, and down the road I may even transform this into a formal chapter since it's an interesting pre-relationship set up (this is also why a few things might seem vague-- since the big fic isn't written yet, can't have spoilers). It started as a small drabble and then it turned into... this. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

It was Wednesday, so it was game night at Varric’s place, but to Hawke it felt like Shit-nes-day. Or something like that, whatever. He’d been forced to stay up all night for a job, and while he was accustomed to and okay with getting little sleep most of the time, he still needed _some._ Four to five hours, ideally. Garrett was pretty sure he only slept for two hours last night, and the night before, maybe three, and the night before _that_ he was up and down constantly. So yeah, he felt like shit.

Fenris was just as bad off as him. Hawke had been in and out of the apartment all day, and Wednesdays the shop was closed so Fenris was home, and everytime he came home he found Fenris brooding over a new mug of coffee. His roommate refused to disclose just how many pots of coffee he’d made throughout the day, which was always a bad sign, but Garrett didn’t argue and just accepted some whenever Fenris pushed a mug into his hands. They probably needed to go to the store to get more, based on how this week was going. Probably meaning definitely.

“Are you sure you want to go to cards? I mean, we don’t have to. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” Hawke asked for the second time, glancing over at Fenris in the passenger seat of his truck. He was met with a green-eyed glare, of course. But the dark circles under those green eyes were almost as bad as Hawke’s, and that was saying something.

“I told you the last six times, I’m fine.” Fenris fixed Garrett with that damn ‘you’re a dumbass’ look he’d perfected. “Besides. You’re one to talk. Do  _ you  _ want to go back home?”

Hawke huffed and looked back at the road. “Shut up. And no, I want to go drink and not think about work and probably lose at Wicked Grace. I’m just-- checking. On you. I mean--” Fuck. A hand moved from the steering wheel to run through his hair, and Garrett was suddenly glad to be driving so he could look at the road and not Fenris. Feelings were even harder when he was tired. Not that there were _ feelings.  _ Just feelings  _ in general _ . And words. Fuck. He just needed a nap.

“...I know. I appreciate the gesture.” Fenris was staring out the passenger window, so Garrett chanced a quick glance but looked away before it could be noticed, or he wound up staring at that line of tattoo that climbed from the side of Fenris’ neck to nearly behind his ear that fascinated Hawke  _ and he really didn’t need his sleep-deprived brain going anywhere near there stop it. _

“Always, Fenris.” Hawke didn’t really mean to say it quite like  _ that _ , and he winced internally, but he idly realized that he also meant it. Completely.

Fenris’ smile stopped Garrett’s brain in its tracks. “Thank you, Hawke.” And he didn’t remark on his roommate’s word choice, so it was fine, right?

Hawke didn’t trust his brain or mouth to continue with that line of thought and decided abruptly changing the subject was a safer course of action. He ran his hand through his hair again. “So! Do you think if I tell Merrill a sob story about my insomnia she’d make her goat cheese dip?” He didn’t even have to look over to know Fenris was rolling his eyes.

“I do not think it’s necessary to guilt Merrill into it. You could simply ask her _.”  _ Fenris’ tone was disapproving, but he was fighting a smile.

“Yeah, but when she feels sorry for me she puts extra parmesan cheese in.”

“She-- really?”

Hawke was too tired to even pretend to be shameful about it and grinned. “Yup. Not sure why, but I’m not complaining.”

Fenris exhaled hard through his nose, and it was close enough to a laugh for Hawke to consider it a victory. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s uncalled for. You should try it sometime-- oh, maybe she’d add more tomatoes for you.”  
“No.”

“No to tomatoes or no to making Merrill feel sorry for you?” Instead of the ‘dumbass’ look he was expecting, Hawke got a glare instead. But with the same subtext. “Fine. More for me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Fenris repeated, but he was smiling at Hawke.

“And you’re going to miss out on cheese dip.”

A few minutes later, they pulled up outside of Varric’s place, and Garrett parked the truck on the street behind Isabela’s Mustang. It looked like everyone but Anders had already arrived, as was the usual pattern of things.

“Is your brother coming?” Fenris asked as they walked up to the door of Varric’s condo.

Hawke snorted. “Fenris, you ask me that as if my brother talks to me on a regular basis.” The door would be unlocked and there was no point to knocking, so Hawke swung open the door for Fenris and then followed in after, calling out loudly, “Hey Merrill, is Carver coming?”

The sound of conversation came from the living room, but Merrill’s shout was from the direction of the kitchen. “I think so!” Fenris headed straight to the living room, but Hawke detoured to the kitchen and found Merrill piling a heap of crackers onto a large plate. He snatched one so Merrill replaced it with a few more. “He was closing today, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes late-- oh Creators, Hawke, you look like you’ve barely slept!”

Garrett rolled his eyes and pulled a beer from the fridge. “This is just my face, you know.” Yeah, so saying to Fenris that he’d tell Merrill a sob story for cheese dip might have been a blatant lie. Since that would mean admitting something was actually wrong. He could banter with Fenris and it was fine-- but actually talking to people was another story. Did he really  _ look  _ as tired as he felt for Merrill to take one look at him and know? Hawke popped the cap off his beer, and Merrill followed him to the living room with the plate of cheese and crackers in hand.

“No it’s not. You look much worse than normal.”

“Gee, thanks, Merrill.” He took a swig and turned down the hallway into Varric’s living room.

“Andraste’s fucking tits, you  _ both  _ look terrible!” Varric exclaimed as soon as he took one step in.

Hawke sighed deeply and flopped on the couch between the dwarf and Fenris, whose scowl matched how Hawke was starting to feel. “You guys are just so full of love, you know? So supportive.”

“I  _ was  _ going to suggest we play for actual money this week, but I’m afraid I’d just feel bad about stealing money from you two,” Isabela was lounging on the loveseat with her long legs thrown over the arm and only leaned up enough to give Merrill room. Merrill sat cross-legged while Isabela leaned on her, and Hawke suddenly realized he’d never seen anyone sit normally on that sofa-- but maybe that was just because it was Isabela and Merrill’s spot every week, and neither of them could sit normally for more than twenty minutes. “What happened in that apartment, I wonder?”

Fenris swatted at Isabela’s foot when it nudged his arm. “The insomnia fairy.”

“We’re not that bad,” Hawke protested. “You guys know I have a shit sleep schedule, it’s fine. Why are you making it a big deal today?” He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He was too tired for this conversation. He also knew Fenris wanted to have this conversation even  _ less _ .

“Well usually, just one of you looks like crap at a time,” Varric ignored Fenris’ glare and Hawke’s indignant huff while he made himself a cracker and cheese sandwich. “So when both of you look like you haven’t slept in a week? Means something is wrong.”

“No it doesn’t,” Garrett tried not to pout and opted instead for glaring. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”

“It’s also only Wednesday,” Aveline pointed out helpfully. She had poured a glass of wine for herself and another for Fenris and passed it over, then gave Hawke a  _ look.  _ Damn her.

“Don’t remind me,” Hawke grumbled and drank his beer.

“Are we playing cards or not?” Fenris asked gruffly. Cards, cards would be good. Cards and a drink or two, then Hawke could go home and pass out. Hopefully.

“We were waiting on you two, and Anders,” Isabela succeeded this time in nudging the elf’s arm with the toe of her boot. “Besides, I’d rather continue discussing your two’s interesting sleeping habits.”

Hawke ran his hand through his hair when his brain short-circuited for a second. “Nope. Literally any other conversation topic. And please don’t say it like that.”

Isabela stuck out her bottom lip. “But you make your hair stick up even more when you’re tired and flustered, and it’s  _ adorable.” _

Garrett’s hand flew to his hair self-consciously and he tried to tame it, glaring at her. Out of the corner of his eye it looked like Fenris was hiding a smile behind his wine glass. “You are a bad person.”

Varric chuckled and retrieved the cards and playing chips from one of the many bookcases. “Leave him alone, Rivaini. He’ll tear his hair out if you keep on him tonight.”

“I don’t know how you haven’t lost it already,” Merrill chirped. “It’s a pretty bad tic, Hawke.”

“Yes, I’m aware,  _ thank you, _ ” Hawke couldn’t glare at everyone at once so he just took another drink. “When did this become ‘discuss Hawke’s flaws’ night?”

Aveline somehow beat Varric to the punch. “Isn’t that every night?” Hawke threw a cracker at her.

The sound of the front door reached them over everyone’s laughter, which meant Anders had arrived and Garrett found an out to being the object of ridicule. “Anders! Okay,  _ now  _ can we play cards? Varric, deal.”

The dwarf sighed, but pulled the cards out to shuffle. “And here things were just getting interesting. It’s always a good time when you start throwing things around, Hawke, but the night is still young. Blondie, you’re-- Maker’s balls, alright, you win.”

Anders did win. He looked like crap, there was no other way of putting it. The dark circles under his eyes were so bad they looked like bruises, and his stubble had turned from five-o-clock shadow to twelve-o-clock shadow. His hair at least had mostly stayed in its usual half-ponytail, but his clothes were rumpled in a way that suggested he slept in them, yet the tired lines in his face said otherwise. If Garrett wasn’t already exhausted he was pretty sure he would have been just from looking at Anders. “What do I win? Is it a pony?” He collapsed into the armchair next to Aveline and slid down into it, but as soon as he saw the plate of cheese and crackers he pounced.

“No, it’s the dumbass award,” Varric shook his head. “Blondie, we’ve talked about this.”

“Talked about what?” Anders said around a mouthful of crackers.

Hawke suddenly felt even more tired. “Anders,” He said carefully. “Have you slept within the past 24 hours?”

“Of course.”

“20 minutes on the clinic couch doesn’t count.”

Anders stared at him, then stuffed some more cheese in his mouth. “Anders!” Merrill cried, echoed by a sigh from Aveline.

“Where did I find you all?”

“Anders, sweetie,” Isabela sighed and swung her legs off the arm of the loveseat to face Anders, her expression earnest. “You know you can close the clinic  _ sometimes  _ so you can eat and sleep, right?”

“I’m fine!” Anders nearly shouted and spewed cracker crumbs everywhere, and Fenris made a disgusted noise. “Things have just been a little busy lately.”  
Fenris gave Anders a dubious look. “You know there is a difference between ‘a little busy’ and not sleeping at all, yes?”

“Oh because you’re one to talk! And you, for that matter!” Anders pointed an accusatory cracker at Hawke.

“Hey, no, there’s a big difference between  _ my  _ not sleeping for a job and  _ your  _ not sleeping for a job!” Garrett gestured emphatically with his bottle.

Anders scoffed. “No there isn’t.”

“You’re a doctor!”

He waved a dismissive hand and then popped another cube of cheese in his mouth and mumbled around it. “And you’re a PI, I can point out the obvious too. Details.”

“You’re all tragically married to your work and bad at taking care of yourselves,” Varric was using his ‘now, children’ tone that was usually reserved for their petty squabbles. “I ought to send the three of you straight home to go to bed.”

“No,” They all said in unison. Fenris and Anders scowled at each other.

“You’d probably be better off keeping them here.” Aveline stole the plate from Anders, which he had managed to demolish half of already, and returned it to the table within everyone’s reach. “Maybe tie them to their beds.”

“I’m flattered, Aveline, but aren’t you a married woman?” She punched Anders in the arm but Isabela giggled.

Fenris sipped calmly at his wine but his face said  _ fuck off _ . “Just try it, dwarf.”

Hawke could feel his patience wavering and tugged on his hair. “Remember when I said literally any other conversation topic?” Anders worried him, and normally Hawke would be fussing just like the rest of them, but he was too fucking tired for this right now-- but beyond that, he was afraid one of their friends was going to start to pry. Anders was a workaholic, he was like this too often and it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone anymore, so they just tried to take care of him. To some extent Hawke could be too, but Merrill had been right-- he was much worse off than usual, and he didn’t need anyone, even his close friends, prying into why that was. And Fenris? Even more so. Hawke had only gotten part of the story behind Fenris’ insomnia, he knew, but he suspected the others got even less, and chances were nil that the tattooed elf wanted to change that now. “It’s game night, so fucking drop it, and let’s play a game.”

His voice had turned hard, and no one was dared argue now. An awkward hush fell over the group, and Varric dutifully returned to shuffling the cards. “You know we just worry about you guys, sometimes. That’s all.” Merrill’s voice was quiet, and Garrett felt the guilt twinge inside, but he could only stare at the bottle in his hands.

“Yeah, just-- don’t want to continue this squabble tonight, okay?” He took a long drink and tried to ignore the tension of his own creation in the room.

Isabela saved him, in her usual Isabela way. “So, big girl,” She threw her legs into Merrill’s lap and leaned against the arm of the couch to face Aveline, who was already starting to frown. “If you ever  _ do  _ want to tie your man to the bed, I can show you a few knots.” The tension broke with Anders’ laughter and Aveline turning the same color as her hair, and Varric dealt the cards.

Things were quickly back to normal with the friend group laughing and chatting, and they were still on the first hand of Wicked Grace when the front door opened again and Carver arrived. “Sorry I’m late, deal me in next hand,” He said brusquely. He pulled a chair from the dining room to the card table and squeezed himself between Merrill and Anders. Carver took one good look at his brother, then Anders, and then back to Garrett. “Well somehow you’ve still managed to look like dog shit, even compared to him. I should congratulate you.”

Hawke just rolled his eyes. Good old Carver. “Thanks, little brother. Love you too.”

“Hold on, I don’t think I like this comparison.” Anders frowned. “If he’s dog shit, what does that make me?”

“Cat shit, obviously.” Isabela leaned over to high five Carver.

“Wait, why is dog shit worse than cat shit? Aren’t they both shit?” Merrill asked.

“Cause it’s bigger and messier. So like Garrett, obviously.”

“Junior, hate to break it to you, but you’re the biggest one at this table,” Varric’s grin could only be described as shit-eating. “And I’ve seen your place-- you’re definitely messier than Hawke.”

Carver’s face turned red and they all burst into laughter. Hawke was practically wheezing and clapped Varric on the shoulder. “You always have my back, Varric.”

“Of course. Personally, I just think you’re nug shit. I call, by the way.” He played a card and moved some of his chips in.

Hawke laughed again. “And there’s the rebound.” His hand was… not great. None of his cards matched, and he was pretty sure Varric wasn’t bluffing this time. “Fold.”

“But where does that rank against cat shit and dog shit?” Fenris asked with the hint of smirk playing at his lips. He drew a card then immediately discarded it, so it was probably good that Hawke folded.

“Raise,” Isabela tossed a handful of chips to the middle of the table and picked up a card-- or maybe two. “Nugs are just tiny, so probably better.”

“But isn’t it-- you know--  _ wetter _ ?” Anders countered.

“Why is this the topic of conversation?” Aveline interrupted.

“Carver started it,” Merrill said cheerfully. “I’ll call.”

The younger Hawke brother crossed his arms and scowled at the accusation. “Did not.”

“I’m getting another drink-- and for the record, you did,” Hawke stood and maneuvered out from between the couch and table. “This is what you get for being mean to your big brother.” He tried to ruffle Carver’s hair on the way past towards the kitchen and only sort of managed as Carver automatically leaned away and took a half-hearted swipe at Garrett.

Once he was in the kitchen and the sound of his friends became quieter, Hawke sighed softly to himself and ran his left hand through his hair. He gently tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin and walked over to the fridge for another beer, but instead of opening it he found himself leaning his forehead against the cool metal, eyes closed, hand on the door. Fuck, he was tired. Tired, and stressed, and-- worried _. _

He heard footsteps enter the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when he heard Carver’s voice. “You gonna talk about it?” Hawke heard the sound of a cabinet and a box being opened, then rustling and tinkling as Carver poured more crackers onto a plate.

“Nope,” Garrett opened his eyes and leaned back, opening the fridge door as he did so. He pulled out another bottle of beer and wiped off the smudge his forehead had left on the metal. “You gonna harass me about it?”

“Nope,” Carver answered, turning around from the counter and waving a hand to get Hawke to move from in front of the fridge. He did and leaned against the wall instead, and Carver pulled out the remainder of the cubed cheese and beer of his own. “I know when you’re bottling something and not going to talk.” Hawke didn’t answer and took a drink, avoiding eye contact until Carver was back at the counter. Then he glanced over and managed to briefly lock eyes with Garrett. “You talked to Fenris?”

Hawke turned his head to look away and ran his fingers in his hair. “This is what I meant when I asked if you were going to harass me.” It wasn’t, exactly, but it was damn close and it was a conversation Garrett did not want to have with his brother tonight. There were actually three possible conversations from that question. He didn’t want to have any of them.

Carver folded his arms and fixed his brother with a hard stare that reminded Garrett of himself and their dad too much. Bethany used to call it ‘the semi-deadly Hawke stare.’ “Not what  _ I  _ mean. I didn’t want to say anything and get my arm broken, but that elf of yours actually looks more haunted than you. Saw it yesterday too at Sundermount, and Merrill says Isabela is starting to worry. But he only talks to you.”

“Not my elf,” Hawke’s protest was weak, but he felt like it needed to be said. Carver was right though-- about Fenris not doing well. And about the fact that he only talked to Garrett. He took a long drink and went back to avoiding eye contact. “And you should stop gossiping with those two so much. It’ll backfire on you someday, you know.”

“Don’t avoid the subject,” Carver’s eyes narrowed. Hawke’s hand moved to his hair as Carver continued. “I’m saying you should talk to Fenris-- for  _ his  _ sake. I don’t know what’s going on, but obviously something is. And I’d wager a guess that whatever’s up with him is part of whatever is making you wig out, too.”

Shit. At this point Garrett’s hand was buried deep in his dark hair and tugging on it. He was quiet for several seconds while he stared at some point to his left, then he turned to glare at his brother. “When did you get so perceptive?”

Carver shrugged. “I’m your brother.” He had his arms crossed and looked vaguely annoyed with Garrett, as he often did, but didn’t say anything else. It was standoffish, but Hawke knew better and recognized his silence and demeanor as his brother’s way of communicating that he was worried.

Hawke pulled at his hair again until he realized what he was doing and let his hand drop to his side. “It’s just… complicated.”

Carver snorted. “When is it ever not with you?” Fine, Hawke had to give him that, and just shrugged in response. “Look, it’s your business and I don’t really care, but-- well just talk to him, alright?” He scooped up the now-refilled plate of cheese and crackers and gave Garrett another earnest look. “You won’t admit it, but I’ve seen it, and you care about him. Guy seems like he could probably use that right now… and honestly? You could too.” And with that, Carver left the kitchen, and Garrett with his mouth hanging open.

_ Fuck. _


End file.
